


Feelings Are Boring, Kissing Is Awesome

by sdwolfpup



Category: due South
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-15
Updated: 2007-02-15
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup
Summary: It had ultimately been Anita's idea.





	Feelings Are Boring, Kissing Is Awesome

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the International Interfandom Day of Making Out. Thanks to brynnmck for swift checking over for any egregious mistakes. Title SHAMELESSLY stolen from Dinosaur Comics.

It had ultimately been Anita's idea. Ray had stopped to pick Fraser up from the Consulate on his way to dropping Anita off at her hotel, and she'd suggested that they have one last celebratory drink together before she had to fly home early the next morning. Ray had wanted to take Fraser home and savor him in the white tuxedo, before slowly peeling it off of him, but the wine Anita offered sounded good and it wasn't like Fraser was going anywhere. They'd filled the elevator with their chatter, the conversation bouncing back and forth with Fraser throwing in the occasional comment.  
  
With a soft, elegant ding, the elevator arrived at the twelfth floor, and they walked down the hallway to her room, the thick carpet swallowing their footsteps. Anita slid the keycard into the lock, opened the door and ushered the two men in ahead of her. Ray appraised the room with some amount of shock.  
  
"Pretty swanky digs, Cortez."  
  
"My government actually supports NAFTA," she'd shot back, grabbing glasses and a bottle of wine from the bar.  
  
"Enough to pay for your alcohol?"  
  
"The wine is complimentary, Vecchio, unlike you."  
  
Ray had laughed and taken the wine bottle she held out to him, opening it with a few practiced twists. The cork was smooth in his hand. He handed it to Anita while he filled the glasses, tasting the wine on the air. "Looks like a good vintage at least."  
  
They each held a glass aloft, Fraser having decided he could afford half a glass for the occasion, and Ray said, "To the well-oiled machine." They'd all smiled and taken a drink, and the conversation had turned to the mundane: Anita's flight home, what would happen to Lacroix.  
  
During the drinking of his second glass, Ray had found his way into one of the wide, round-backed chairs and was slouching comfortably in it, his legs stretched out in front of him. Fraser was in the other one, his back straight but his shoulders loose, his white bowtie undone, the ends shifting against his chest when he gestured. Anita had slipped off her high heels and was sitting on the nearest bed, her stockinged feet curled up underneath her. Their conversation had ebbed, filling the room with a comfortable silence.  
  
"Excuse me," Anita said, setting her glass down on the nightstand and heading into the bathroom. Ray heard the fan click on, so he reached across the table and brushed his fingers along the back of Fraser's hand. It was killing Ray to watch Fraser like this, with bright eyes and messy hair, and not be able to touch him. Fraser looked over, and the heat in his eyes had Ray standing almost without thought. He leaned down into Fraser's personal space, pushing him back into the chair by sheer force of will. "I've been wanting to do this all night," Ray murmured.  
  
He kissed Fraser hungrily, swiping his tongue across Fraser's teeth, his tongue, the wet heat sending sparks through his blood. Ray figured it was Fraser's strong hand gripping his hip that had made him dizzy with lust, and that was why he hadn't heard the fan shut off, or Anita come back, until she'd cleared her throat. Loudly.  
  
Ray tripped over his own feet and nearly went crashing into the bed, but he managed to keep himself upright. Fraser stood, too, and they both stared at her, panting loudly in the quiet room.  
  
"Is this your idea of bonding, Vecchio?"  
  
Ray swallowed. "Well, I...you see, we...there's really a..." He'd looked helplessly at Fraser, who had simply shrugged.  
  
"You don't have to explain," she said, and she took a step closer to them. Ray had expected her to be disgusted, but her dark eyes were narrowed thoughtfully, and she skimmed them both with an intense look. "I think bonding is a good thing."  
  
Which is how they'd ended up like this.  
  
They were all sitting on the bed to account for the height difference. Ray was leaning back against the headboard with his shirt mostly undone and Anita between his legs, kissing his chest and licking his nipples. Her tongue felt different, softer and smaller, than Fraser's, and her breasts were pressed up against his stomach, rubbing against it every time she moved. Fraser was behind her, holding her wavy hair aloft in one hand to bare her neck, where he was kissing her with slow, steady, persistence. Ray had been on the receiving end of kisses like that and they were maddeningly precise, until he was begging for more. Fraser had his other arm loosely around Anita's waist, and Ray could feel the heavy, familiar weight of it pressing against his dick.  
  
Ray had one hand on Fraser's knee and the other sliding underneath the hem of Anita's dress. She'd taken off her nylons somewhere in the first crush of their bodies, and now his fingers touched smooth, warm skin. He skimmed his hand up her thigh until he reached the edge of her silk panties where they curved high over her hip bone. He tugged gently at the elastic, and she looked up at him, her lips dark and wet.  
  
"Nice," he'd murmured, and leaned his head down to kiss her. And, Christ, he loved kissing Fraser, but Ray had forgotten the heady joy of kissing a woman, to have her soft weight pressing against him. Anita had full lips and a skillful tongue, and when her hands came up to press against Ray's chest, he felt the rough brush of calluses.  
  
Ray shifted so he could sit up more fully, palming Anita's ass and dragging her with him. Her perfume was subtle but staggering; he couldn't breathe but he couldn't stop kissing her. Fraser groaned and then was at Ray's side, and Ray forced himself to pull away, turned his head to touch his lips to Fraser's neck. Ray brought a hand up to feel the sharper edges of Fraser's body, which radiated an intense heat at the worst of times, and was almost too much when he was like this. Ray nuzzled into the curve of Fraser’s neck, tasting the sweat there, breathing him in. Fraser and Anita kissed, and Ray pulled back to watch, saw the pink of their tongues, felt the heat of them both in his hands, rough and smooth, sharp and soft.

He’d wanted to kiss Anita most of the day, in a vague way and without expectation of it. Watching Fraser kiss her was somehow even better; the way she moaned into Fraser’s mouth, the way Fraser’s hand was large and pale against her glowing skin.

Ray alternated kissing the swell of Anita’s breasts and licking Fraser’s collarbone, leaving a wet trail on both, glistening in the brightly lit room. Soon Ray wasn’t sure whose hands were whose, just that there was heat and gasping breaths all around him, and tongues exploring at leisure. Ray drifted his lips across them, tasting his rough stubble and then the velvet curve of her chin.

Eventually it was Anita who stopped it. She pulled back from Fraser, leaned down to give Ray another kiss, her hair falling to brush his skin. Her lips were gentle, now, warm and friendly, and she pulled back with a grin on her swollen lips. “We should’ve done this yesterday,” she said. “We might have bonded more quickly.”

With easy movements she slid off the bed and brushed the sweaty hair back from her face. “I have an early flight tomorrow,” she said, regret in her voice. Ray had licked his lips – also swollen, he realized – and had rolled to his feet after Fraser. There was no embarrassment, but they re-dressed quickly and were at the door only a couple of minutes after Anita’s last kisses.

“Have a safe flight,” Fraser said, giving her one last, lingering kiss.

“Don’t let him shoot you again,” she said, before turning to Ray. “So. Vecchio.”

“Cortez,” he said, but he couldn’t stop smiling down at her.

“If you ever make it out of your country, look me up.”

Ray pressed his mouth to hers one more time, brushed his knuckles against her soft cheek. “I will,” he whispered into her lips. She patted him on the chest and then shooed them out, and Ray didn’t hear the click of the door shutting until the elevator had arrived.


End file.
